THE WILL.
Lord George came back to England as quick as the trains would carry
him, and with him came the sad and mournful burden which had to be
deposited in the vaults of the parish church at Manor Cross. There must
be a decent tombstone now that the life was gone, with decent words
upon it and a decent effigy,--even though there had been nothing decent
in the man's life. The long line of past Marquises must be perpetuated,
and Frederic Augustus, the tenth peer of the name, must be made to lie
with the others. Lord George, therefore,--for he was still Lord George
till after the funeral,--travelled with his sad burden, some deputy
undertaker having special charge of it, and rested for a few hours in
London. Mr. Knox met him in Mr. Stokes' chambers, and there he learned
that his brother, who had made many wills in his time, had made one
last will just before he left London, after his return from Rudham
Park. Mr. Stokes took him aside and told him that he would find the
will to be unfavourable. "I thought the property was entailed," said
Lord George very calmly. Mr. Stokes assented, with many assurances as
to the impregnability of the family acres and the family houses; but
added that there was money, and that the furniture had belonged to the
late Marquis to dispose of as he pleased. "It is a matter of no
consequence," said Lord George,--whom the loss of the money and
furniture did not in truth at all vex.
Early on the following morning he went down to Brotherton, leaving the
undertakers to follow him as quickly as they might. He could enter the
house now, and to him as he was driven home under the oaks no doubt
there came some idea of his own possession of them. But the idea was
much less vivid than the Dean's, and was chiefly confined to the
recollection that no one could now turn him out of the home in which he
had been born and in which his mother and sisters and wife were living.
Had his elder brother been a man of whom he could have been proud, I
almost think he would have been more contented as a younger brother.
"It is over at last" were the first words he said to his wife, not
finding it to be more important that his greatness was beginning than
that his humiliation should be brought to an end.
The funeral took place with all the state that undertakers could give
to it in a little village, but with no other honours. Lord George was
the chief mourner and almost the only one. One or two neighbours
came,--Mr. De Baron, from Rudham Park, and such of the farmers as had
been long on the land, among them being Mr. Price. But there was one
person among the number whom no one had expected. This was Jack De
Baron. "He has been mentioned in the will," said Mr. Stokes very
gravely to Lord George, "and perhaps you would not object to my asking
him to be present." Lord George did not object, though certainly
Captain De Baron was the last person whom he would have thought of
asking to Manor Cross on any occasion. He was made welcome, however,
with a grave courtesy.
"What on earth has brought you here?" said old Mr. De Baron to his
cousin.
"Don't in the least know! Got a letter from a lawyer, saying I had
better come. Thought everybody was to be here who had ever seen him."
"He hasn't left you money, Jack," said Mr. De Baron.
"What will you give for my chance?" said Jack. But Mr. De Baron, though
he was much given to gambling speculations, did not on this occasion
make an offer.
After the funeral, which was sadder even than funerals are in general
though no tear was shed, the will was read in the library at Manor
Cross, Lord George being present, together with Mr. Knox, Mr. Stokes
and the two De Barons. The Dean might have wished to be there; but he
had written early on that morning an affectionate letter to his
son-in-law, excusing himself from being present at the funeral. "I
think you know," he had said, "that I would do anything either to
promote your welfare or to gratify your feelings, but there had
unfortunately been that between me and the late Marquis which would
make my attendance seem to be a mockery." He did not go near Manor
Cross on that day; but no one knew better than he,--not even Mr. Knox
himself,--that the dead lord had possessed no power of alienating a
stick or a brick upon the property. The will was very short, and the
upshot of it was that every shilling of which the Marquis died
possessed, together with his house at Como and the furniture contained
in the three houses, was left to our old friend Jack De Baron. "I took
the liberty," said Mr. Stokes, "to inform his lordship that should he
die before his wife, his widow would be entitled to a third of his
personal property. He replied that whatever his widow could claim by
law, she could get without any act of his. I mention this, as Captain
De Baron may perhaps be willing that the widow of the late Marquis may
be at once regarded as possessed of a third of the property."
"Quite so," said Jack, who had suddenly become as solemn and funereal
as Mr. Stokes himself. He was now engaged to Guss Mildmay with a
vengeance!
When the solemnity of the meeting was over, Lord George,--or the
Marquis, as he must now be called,--congratulated the young heir with
exquisite grace. "I was so severed from my brother of late," he said,
"that I had not known of the friendship."
"Never saw him in my life till I met him down at Rudham," said Jack. "I
was civil to him there because he seemed to be ill. He sent me once to
fetch a ten-pound note. I thought it odd, but I went. After that he
seemed to take to me a good deal."
"He took to you to some purpose, Captain De Baron. As to me, I did not
want it, and certainly should not have got it. You need not for a
moment think that you are robbing us."
"That is so good of you!" said Jack, whose thoughts, however, were too
full of Guss Mildmay to allow of any thorough enjoyment of his
unexpected prosperity.
"Stokes says that after the widow is paid and the legacy duty there
will be eight--and twenty--thousand pounds!" whispered Mr. De Baron to
his relative. "By heavens! you are a lucky fellow."
"I am rather lucky."
"It will be fourteen hundred a year, if you only look out for a good
investment. A man with ready money at his own disposal can always get
five per cent, at least. I never heard of such a fluke in my life."
"It was a fluke, certainly."
"You'll marry now and settle down, I suppose?"
"I suppose I shall," said Jack. "One has to come to that kind of thing
at last. I knew when I was going to Rudham that some d---- thing would
come of it. Oh,--of course I'm awfully glad. It's sure to come sooner
or later, and I suppose I've had my run. I've just seen Stokes, and he
says I'm to go to him in about a month's time. I thought I should have
got some of it to-morrow?"
"My dear fellow, I can let you have a couple of hundreds, if you want
them," said Mr. De Baron, who had never hitherto been induced to
advance a shilling when his young cousin had been needy.
Mr. Stokes, Mr. Knox, Mr. De Baron and the heir went away, leaving the
family to adjust their own affairs in their new position. Then Mary
received a third lecture as she sat leaning upon her husband's
shoulder.
"At any rate, you won't have to go away any more," she had said to him.
"You have been always away, for ever so long."
"It was you who would go to the deanery when you left London."
"I know that. Of course I wanted to see papa then. I don't want to talk
about that any more. Only, you won't go away again?"
"When I do you shall go with me."
"That won't be going away. Going away is taking yourself off,--by
yourself."
"Could I help it?"
"I don't know. I could have gone with you. But it's over now, isn't
it?"
"I hope so."
"It shall be over. And when this other trouble is done,--you'll go to
London then?"
"It will depend on your health, dear."
"I am very well. Why shouldn't I be well? When a month is over,--then
you'll go."
"In two months, perhaps."
"That'll be the middle of June. I'm sure I shall be well in three
weeks. And where shall we go? We'll go to Munster Court,--shan't we?"
"As soon as the house is ready in St. James' Square, we must go there."
"Oh! George,--I do so hate that house in St. James' Square. I shall
never be happy there. It's like a prison."
Then he gave her his lecture. "My love, you should not talk of hating
things that are necessary."
"But why is St. James' Square necessary?"
"Because it is the town residence belonging to the family. Munster
Court was very well for us as we were before. Indeed, it was much too
good, as I felt every hour that I was there. It was more than we could
afford without drawing upon your father for assistance."
"But he likes being drawn upon," said Mary. "I don't think there is
anything papa likes so much as to be drawn upon."
"That could make no difference to me, my dear. I don't think that as
yet you understand money matters."
"I hope I never shall, then."
"I hope you will. It will be your duty to do so. But, as I was saying,
the house at Munster Court will be unsuitable to you as Lady
Brotherton." On hearing this Mary pouted and made a grimace. "There is
a dignity to be borne which, though it may be onerous, must be
supported."
"I hate dignity."
"You would not say that if you knew how it vexed me. Could I have
chosen for myself personally, perhaps, neither would I have taken this
position. I do not think that I am by nature ambitious. But a man is
bound to do his duty in that position in which he finds himself
placed,--and so is a woman."
"And it will be my duty to live in an ugly house?"
"Perhaps the house may be made less ugly; but to live in it will
certainly be a part of your duty. And if you love me, Mary----"
"Do you want me to tell you whether I love you?"
"But, loving me as I know you do, I am sure you will not neglect your
duty. Do not say again that you hate your dignity. You must never
forget now that you are Marchioness of Brotherton."
"I never shall, George."
"That is right, my dear," he said, omitting to understand the little
satire conveyed in her words. "It will come easy to you before long.
But I would have all the world feel that you are the mistress of the
rank to which you have been raised. Of course, it has been different
hitherto," he said, endeavouring in his own mind to excuse the
indiscretion of that Kappa-kappa. This lecture also she turned to
wholesome food and digested, obtaining from it some strength and
throwing off the bombast by which a weaker mind might have been
inflated. She understood, at any rate, that St. James' Square must be
her doom; but while acknowledging this to herself, she made a little
resolution that a good deal would have to be done to the house before
it was ready for her reception, and that the doing would require a
considerable time.
When she heard the purport of the late lord's will she was much
surprised,--more surprised, probably, than Jack himself. Why should a
man who was so universally bad,--such a horror,--leave his money to one
who was so--so--so good as Jack De Baron. The epithet came to her at
last in preference to any other. And what would he do now? George had
told her that the sum would be very large, and of course he could marry
if he pleased. At any rate he would not go to Perim. The idea that he
should go to Perim had made her uncomfortable. Perhaps he had better
marry Guss Mildmay. She was not quite all that his wife should be; but
he had said that he would do so in certain circumstances. Those
circumstances had come round and it was right that he should keep his
word. And yet it made her somewhat melancholy to think that he should
marry Guss Mildmay.
Very shortly after this, and when she was becoming aware that the event
which ought to have taken place on the 1st of April would not be much
longer delayed, there came home to her various things containing
lectures almost as severe, and perhaps more eloquent than those she had
received from her sister, her father, and her husband. There was an
infinity of clothes which someone had ordered for her, and on all the
things which would bear a mark, there was a coronet. The coronets on
the pockethandkerchiefs seemed to be without end. And there was
funereal note-paper, on which the black edges were not more visible
than the black coronets. And there came invoices to her from the
tradesmen, addressed to the Marchioness of Brotherton. And then there
came the first letter from her father with her rank and title on the
envelope. At first she was almost afraid to open it.